


The Introduction of Moral Gray Zones to a Twenty-Something from Queens by a Canadian

by Farisya



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Howl's Moving Castle - All Media Types, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Adult Peter Parker, And again for the ones in the back, Based on a Tumblr Post, Blame this on Tumblr posts, But I was promised an altar in my name, F/F, F/M, I don't even ship this, I will say it again, M/M, PETER PARKER IS NOT A CHILD IN THIS FIC, Peter Parker is a grown-up, So bogdammit I'm writing it, Spideypool - Freeform, Timelines? We don't need no stinkin timelines, We make up our own, this was supposed to be short
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-21 07:20:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14910882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Farisya/pseuds/Farisya
Summary: Requested by @SauceFactory on Tumblr. This is not my ship, but I couldn't pass it up.SpideyPool/ Howl's Moving Castle AUPeter Parker is a twenty-something lab technician at Oscorp. By night he's a blue and red blur through the streets of Queens as its Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man.Peter is in a funk and his family is concerned. Then aliens attack and he goes on the run. For some reason he follows a homeless person down an alley in Hell's Kitchen, and, well, that's where things get really weird.Wade Wilson is happily shooting and maiming his way through any contract Weasel passes his way. He's an assassin so it's totally cool. It's not like he's murdering people forfun. No, he's doing it for fun, and he's getting paid. Everything is fine.It's not. His failed stint with the X-men may have hurt his feelings more than he thought. Knowing Colossus was disappointed in him didn't help. Then, well, this boy walks into Sister Margaret's and that's when things get, Facebook profile officially changed,complicated.





	1. Chapter 1: In Which Peter Talks to Strangers (Not Really. It's His Family, But Stranger Sounded Better)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Saucery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saucery/gifts).



> I was asked to do this by the wonderful @SauceFactory over on Tumblr. I don't usually write Marvel fic its so damned big and difficult to separate the characters from one another. They looooove their team-ups. 
> 
> But I do love Howl's Moving Castle and when this AU popped up on my dash, I figured why the fuck not? 
> 
> This will mostly be told from Peter's perspective as I'm trying to follow the plotline of Howl but set completely in Marvel's New York City. I felt it wouldn't work as well to have Wade wandering Ingary or Wales. Sending him on a contract or two in our world made much more sense. 
> 
> And as far as characters. Peter Parker is meant to be a twenty-one year old version of Steve McNiven's Spider-Man from the Civil War comics. Mary Jane will also come from the comics, specifically the badass lady of Invincible Iron Man Volume 5 by Brian Michael Bendis and David Marquez. Piotr Rasputin (Colossus) will be from the X-Men Animated series of my childhood. Everyone else you encounter will be their most recent movie versions in terms of look. I'm cherry-picking other bits from the comics. 
> 
> So, here you go. My completely un-beta'd attempt at SpideyPool.

Sister Margaret’s Home for Wayward Children  
AKA  
Blind Al’s Attempts to Redeem the Irredeemable  
AKA  
Peter Parker and Wade Wilson, A Partnership Made in Hell  
AKA  
The Introduction of Moral Gray Zones to a Twenty-Something from Queens by a Canadian

 

On the planet Earth, where things like Furbies, comic books, and the internet exist, it is very unlucky to live as a child with a tragic backstory in New York City. Everyone knows those children are inevitably destined to have some sort of major turning point thrust upon them. In a city where mutants and masked heroes and vigilantes run amok every other day, every child with a shitty home life dreams of developing powers of some kind and fixing their lives. 

Peter Parker was an orphan in Queens, New York. His parents were _tragically_ killed whilst for their government when he was just a toddler. Still, he didn’t have it so bad. His foster parents were his Aunt May and Uncle Ben and he lived in their three-bedroom apartment with his two cousins, across the street from where he lived before his parents died. 

His cousins, Vanessa and Neena, were pretty cool. May and Ben took them in as fosters when Peter was a baby, and later adopted them, so he’d never known life without them. Vanessa, ten years older than Peter, was born in Jersey, though she could be forgiven for that. Her childhood, what little she’d told Peter since she was fiercely protective of her little cousin, had been shit. It didn’t help that she was a mutant. She could shapeshift into any living thing and she didn’t always have the best control over her powers. Neena, six years older than Peter, was a mutant too. She was lucky. No, really, luck was her mutation. Things always seemed to go her way. She earned herself the nickname Domino after she consistently beat the pants off their neighbor, Mr. Porter, and his friends for six weeks straight. She didn’t have the best childhood either. Peter was sometimes jealous of their powers, but they were still his family so he never hated them for how they were born. 

Peter didn’t realize either of his sisters had powers until he was ten years old. He opened the door to the girls’ room to see two Neenas, then suddenly Vanessa was standing where one of the Neenas was a second before and he remembers shouting. Aunt May and Uncle Ben sat him down and explained that the girls had powers and that made them different, special. It was up to the Parkers, as a family, to make Vanessa and Neena feel safe and loved. Peter remembers telling his Aunt and Uncle that he still loved his cousins, he just got freaked out because there were two Neenas, and the world wasn’t ready for that. 

Then, when he was fifteen, Peter went on a school trip to Oscorp. His friend Harry’s family owned it. Norman Osborne, Harry’s dad, even gave them a tour of one of his bio-labs. That’s when Peter’s life changed forever. One of the specimens had gotten loose, unbeknownst to the scientists and Mr. Osborne, and it bit Peter. He didn’t even realize that the spider he squished had done anything to him until a few weeks later. 

Aunt May, convinced that Peter’s sudden onset funk was mono, took him to the doctor to find that her nephew was not only in perfect health, he was growing quickly. Peter shot up six inches over the next six months and started his sophomore year of high school two inches taller than his best friend. He noticed other powers manifest over the summer too. 

Vanessa, the big stupid copycat, was wearing his face and running away after waking him up one morning and he found himself climbing the walls to catch up with her. Literally climbing the walls. They both screamed and then sat in silence while Peter cried. She kept telling him it was all going to be okay. 

The strength and agility came soon after and so did the Spidey-Senses, as Neena called them. Peter could sense danger a mile off and managed to stop a few minor crimes while walking to and from his friend Ned’s house. He told his Aunt and Uncle about the spider and his powers, of course, Ned too. But no one else knew and Peter was completely happy with that. 

Not everyone could be part of the X-Men or the Avengers. Some people were just meant to stay on the ground and help the everyday citizen. 

Peter made it to twenty and halfway through a degree in biophysics at ESU before that changed. 

Walking home from the subway one night, he passed a guy on the street. Every bit of Spidey-Sense Peter had told him this guy was bad news, but the man wasn’t doing anything. Peter hefted his schoolbag higher on his shoulder and continued on his way home. 

The scene that greeted him was horrifying. His Uncle Ben was lying on the floor in a pool of blood, the house ransacked and Aunt May’s cashbox broken open on the floor. Peter immediately called 911, but the paramedics were too late. 

Uncle Ben’s last words haunted Peter. 

“With great Power, comes great Responsibility,” He’d said. Peter didn’t want his powers, nor any of the responsibility that came with them. 

For months afterwards, the whole family reeled. The man who killed Uncle Ben was the weird guy he passed on the street, the one his powers told him was dangerous. He did nothing to stop the man who killed his uncle. 

He shut down, barely noticing when Neena was invited to teach at Professor X’s School for Gifted Youngsters up in Westchester. Nor did he register anything when Vanessa started working at a law firm in Hell’s Kitchen. 

It wasn’t until his Aunt May yelled at him, using every dirty trick in the book to get him to move into the dorms and finish his degree that Peter woke up. He started making himself a suit and created special devices that shot synthetic spider silk. He barely slept or ate for a year. He convinced his advisor to sign off on taking extra classes and crammed another two years of study into ten months, graduating Summa Cum Laude. 

Then he moved back in with Aunt May and put on the suit for the first time. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
“You might wanna put that down,” Peter drawled. 

The mugger’s head snapped up and he screamed at the sight of a guy dangling above him wearing a red and blue costume with a big black spider on it. The eyes on the suit didn’t help either. It was dark. He looked like an alien. 

As the mugger’s gun hand started to swing upwards, Peter shot web and pinned both the guy’s arms to the brick wall behind him. He dropped to the ground and picked up the teenager’s backpack, dusting it off. 

“Here ya go,” Peter said amiably. 

The kid gaped at him but accepted the bag. “Th-Thanks man. I didn’t think you were real. You, uh, you mind if I get a picture with you? I wanna put this on my story. Holy shit, no one is gonna believe this.”

“Only if you promise to dial 911,” Peter answered. He was smiling widely under the suit. He loved the flower crowns people put on him. The kid swiftly called and, while the operator put them on hold, Peter flashed a peace sign and made sure the mugger was in frame behind them. 

The kid beamed as they selected a filter for the background. It was Pride month after all, and the mugger had been saying some pretty nasty things to the kid before Peter got his attention. Kept spouting those things until Peter webbed his mouth too. 

“I am going to be the coolest kid at school tomorrow man.” The kid smiled widely. The familiar white and blue cruisers appeared at the head of the alley and Peter shot a web upwards. 

“Glad to be of service.”

The last thing he heard as he cleared the edge of the roof was the kid shouting, “You really _are_ a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man!”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Peter patrolled Queens for a year, returning every night to his Aunt May with new stories of dance contests, selfies, and crimes averted. He got a job at Oscorp, working as a lab tech with flexible hours depending on the projects currently in progress. 

He knew he was in a rut, knew he wanted to help more people, be a bit bigger than the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. He didn’t know how. Aunt May was usually out, working double shifts at the hospital training for her new promotion but also training her replacement. Without her around to talk to, Peter decided to go to the next best thing: Vanessa. 

He took the subway over to Hell’s Kitchen on his lunch hour one day in September and walked into the dumpy building that had exactly two businesses listed on the buzzers: Alias Investigations and Nelson & Murdock, Attorneys at Law. 

Peter laughed to himself, he really hoped the PI gave the lawyers a discount. 

No one answered the buzzer at Nelson & Murdock, so Peter took a chance and pressed the button for Alias Investigations. 

“What?” A woman’s gruff voice barked out at him. 

“Um, sorry ma’am, no one’s answering at the law firm? Can you buzz me in?”

“No.”

Peter frowned at the button. He hoped the neighbors were no indication of the kind of people Vanessa worked for. He kept frowning at the button for several long seconds before the sound of a window opening got his attention. He stepped back to see a pretty, dark-haired woman leaning perilously out of the second-story. 

“Most people either lean on the button or leave. Haven’t ever had anyone just glare before. Who are you, kid?”

“I’m Peter Parker. My cousin works with Nelson & Murdock.”

“Ah, the pretty secretary. Don’t take this the wrong way, kid, but there ain’t a whole lotta family resemblance there.”

“She’s adopted.”

The brunette studied him for a long moment and then disappeared. Peter was about to walk away when the door buzzed. He dove for it, just in case the woman changed her mind, and nearly ran up the stairs. Glass crunched under his foot and he looked up to find the woman leaning over the edge of a broken glass door. 

“Excuse my mess. Someone didn’t want to know what they’re spouse was up to after all.”

Peter nodded. He didn’t know what to say to that. 

“The super accidentally cut their buzzer last month. There was an,” she paused, “accident with the plumbing.”

“Thanks,” Peter smiled at her. “Um, I don’t know your name.” 

“I didn’t tell you.”

She disappeared. Peter shrugged and knocked on the door. 

Neena answered. 

He frowned at her. 

She sighed. 

Then a really attractive guy wearing sunglasses inside bumped into a desk behind Neena and broke their staring contest. 

“Neena, who is it?”

“Just my cousin, Matt. You mind if I take a long lunch?”

The guy, who Peter now realized was blind, tipped his head to the side. Peter had the distinct feeling he was being studied carefully. Then, Stupidly Attractive Matt as he was now called in Peter’s head, smiled slyly at Neena and shooed her away. 

“Go, Foggy’s occupied with Ms. Martinez and I’ve got that closing to write. Where is the deposition from the Porter case?”

“Top shelf of your bookcase, I used grape on it.” 

Before Peter could process what that meant, Neena had bundled him out the door and down the stairs to lead him down the street to a hot dog cart. She bought him his usual six hot dogs with everything and two for herself then plopped them down on a bench in the shade. 

“I’m not even gonna let you start talking,” She said as he took his first bite. She knew better than anyone that the only way to shut him up completely was by putting food in his mouth. “Ness and I switched jobs. I set one foot in that school and Professor X told me to turn around. He said I didn’t belong there, but to send my sister his way, she could do some of his children a lot of good. Luckily,” She smiled wryly at Peter. “Matt and Foggy weren’t all that picky about who took the secretary position. They didn’t even look at my resume, just let me and Vanessa completely switch places.”

Peter wolfed down his last hot dog. “I thought you wanted to help mutants? Wasn’t that the whole point of taking the job upstate?”

Neena nodded, “It was, yeah. But Professor X was right, I didn’t belong with a bunch of frustrated and abandoned children. May and Ben found me when I was a kid, I didn’t have to go through half the shit Ness did. She deserves to show those kids that there are regular, non-mutant human beings who care. She needs to be there, to show them that all the shit they’ve been through can change if they find the right people, if they find a family.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” He conceded. “But what about you?”

“Nelson & Murdock take on like ninety percent pro bono cases. And they win them. They fight slum lords, the state, and they’ve sued a bunch of corporations for mutant discrimination. Having me around? Well that’s just asking for Lady Luck to give people a break. I help organize things, go to court, hold our clients’ hands and we win them a second chance. I always wanted to use my luck to help other people, Pete. Now I can.” 

He stayed silent. Things were not the way he thought they were. Suddenly the rut he’d been in, despite putting on the suit and helping people, seemed to be widening in front of him. Peter came here for advice. Vanessa may be the one he was looking for, but Lady Luck usually put Neena precisely where Peter needed her. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Oh, Pete,” She pressed against him and slung an arm around his shoulders. Even after six years, he still wasn’t used to her being shorter than him. “We were going to, but May asked us not to. She said you needed to sort yourself out, none of us could do it for you. Something about Parkers being the stubbornest men on the planet.” 

He huffed out a laugh. “I thought about not putting the costume on, you know. But Uncle Ben always wanted me to use my powers to help people.”

“I know. You know that’s why May pushed you out of the house. She wanted you to get away from his ghost. She needed you to figure out what you were going to do. I think she cried to me on the phone about a million times those months you didn’t speak. But she gave you the kick you needed. Now you need another one. It’s not just Queens that can use a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, Pete. It’s this whole damn city. The Avengers, the Fantastic Four, they can’t concern themselves with the little people. If they do, they’ll never be ready for the big things. But you, Peter, you can do both. You make everyone around you stop to consider other people.” 

Neena stopped and squeezed him tightly. “You make all of us see the good in other people. Even when you’re so mad you can’t see straight, you never take it out on another person. There’s so much good in you. But you’re also completely practical. You’re willing to draw a line, and then cross it if necessary to save a whole lot of people.”

“You should get your law degree,” Peter said, smiling. “You could convince anyone of anything.”

“True, doesn’t hurt that I’m also really, really lucky.”

He wrapped his own arm around her for a hug. They watched the people of Hell’s Kitchen amble along in the warm summer day. The brunette from the PI’s office passed them and Neena called out a, “Hey Jessica,” which earned her a grin and a quirked eyebrow for Peter. 

“She’s intense,” He couldn’t help but comment. 

“Oh, you’ve got no idea.” 

Peter glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to get back to work. Come by for dinner this week. I want to know how crazy it is working for lawyers in Hell’s Kitchen.”

“You got it kiddo. Now, go on, get back to Corporate America.” 

“Bye, Domino,” He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek.

“See ya, Spidey.”


	2. In Which Peter Is Compelled To Follow That Guy Down That Alley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2! Yay! 
> 
> Chapter 3 is almost done. I might get it posted today. 
> 
> Note: Norman Osborn, despite a lot of great comic iterations of him over the years will ALWAYS be Willem Dafoe for me. There's just something about that guy, ya know? Harry Osborn in this fic should definitely be Dane DeHaan. Again, there's just something about that guy. Aunt May is still the fantabulous Marisa Tomei. Captain Stacy will forever be the voice of Clancy Brown in my head from the Spectacular Spider-Man animated series. If you heathens don't like Blind Al from the Deadpool movies, there is something wrong with you. She exists as our Turniphead for the purposes of this AU. Bow before her glory. 
> 
> Also, Ned Leeds was played fantastically in Spider-Man Homecoming by a kid of Filipino descent. As a result, I've created an OC older brother for him who is speaking Tagalog. Google that shit. It ain't hard. 
> 
> I think that about covers everything. Imma go back to writing Weasel's dialogue now.

Chapter 2: In Which Peter Is Compelled To Follow That Guy Down That Alley

Peter thought about his life for the rest of the day as he collated data on their latest experiment. Neena’s words rattled around his brain, making him wonder if he could be doing more. He wondered what that would mean for his family. A quick glance at nearby Stark Tower reminded him that doing more, meant more attention. Peter wasn’t sure he was ready for that. The clock ticked five and he stood at the lab’s window for a long time, watching the city fifteen stories below him. Eventually, he packed his bag up, remembering to grab his lunch box, and headed for the elevator. 

The doors opened on Norman Osborn himself. 

“Peter! Long time no see. How’s the lab treating you?” 

Norman’s affable nature, coupled with his shark grin and piercing gaze, always threw Peter for a loop. Even when he, Ned, and Harry were kids at Midtown High and Norman would take the three of them home after whatever academics club they were meeting at, something about him put Peter on edge. 

“Just fine Mr. Osborn, I was finishing up the data on that synthetic silk project.”

“How many times to I need to tell you, call me Norman. You think that silk will be strong enough to weave with Kevlar for the Army’s new body armor?”

“Definitely. The goats are producing a hybrid of several different spiders’ silk. It’s lightweight, but everything we’ve seen so far says it could practically weld steel together.” 

Norman hummed. “And this is going in the reports?”

“It’s what I’m sending to Dr. Adams. All my data indicates it’s performing way above projections.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” The elevator dinged and opened on the lobby. “You have a good night Peter.”

Peter stepped out and made to hold the door. “Are you not coming?”

“No, I left something in my office. You go on home. I’ll see you soon, Peter.”

“Good night, Mr. Osborn.” 

“Norman!” He laughed as the doors closed.  
\------

Peter boarded the subway a block away, the image of Norman Osborn’s manic smile seared into his mind. He shook his head and caught the M train. The hour he spent on the subway gave him even more time to think. The walk from the Forest Hills station was usually enough time for him to stop a mugging or two on his way home. Coming out of the station, he bumped into a guy wearing a ball cap and a heavy trench coat. 

“Hey, watch it, pal.” The guy drawled. 

“Sorry,” Peter responded immediately. He took notice of the hat as the guy stopped to look at him. It advertised the 2015 Montreal Dodgebow championships. Peter caught a flash of scarred skin under the hat, but the darkness and lack of streetlights in this particular part of the street. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Oh, wow,” Peter could hear the delight in the guy’s tone and instinctively smiled at him. “A _polite_ New Yorker. Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Uh, you’re welcome I guess.” 

“Shy too, huh? Like a little mouse? Need an escort home from an alley cat, handsome?”

Peter blushed deeply and ducked his head. “No thanks, man. I’m perfectly fine.”

“That you are,” the guy sighed. Peter’s head snapped up, though, not quite believing this guy was flirting with him. The guy checked his watch. “Shit, I’d love to try and convince you to come home with me tonight, but, uh, I’ve got some place to be.”

“O-Okay.” Peter really didn’t know what the hell he was still doing standing next to this guy. Shit like this didn’t happen to him. Nor did he usually feel drawn to people. Especially people whose faces he couldn’t really see. Something about this guy’s voice though…

“You got a name? Maybe I’ll google you.”

“Peter,” The guy looked expectant. “Oh, Peter Parker. Sorry.” 

“Wade,” A hand appeared in front of Peter and it was as scarred as the little bit of face he could see in the low light. “Wade Wilson.” 

Wade ducked his head to look at his, and Peter smiled at the sight, Dora the Explorer watch. “Shit, I really got to go. People to find and terrorize. You on Facebook?”

“No. Not really my thing.” Peter admitted sadly. He thought about finally reactivating his account from high school just so this guy could find him again. But that was weird. Definitely weird. _Wait,_ Peter thought, _did he say terrorize?_

“Well, then Peter, you’ll have to come for me. Uh, to me, fuck, I meant come to me. Though, you know if the other option is on the table. Goddammit, I’m rambling. Just, uh, look up Sister Margaret’s. Weasel will know where to find me. Bye bye, gorgeous.” 

Peter didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye before Wade disappeared into the shadows. He stood for a moment, more than a little gob smacked at the whole encounter. Sirens caught his attention, especially since they were racing towards his house. 

He dove into an alley and stripped off his work clothes, cramming them into his bag. The cubby hole behind the fire escape was a favorite and he shoved the bag in, covering it up with a few bricks. His mask slid over his head as he fired his web shooter upwards. 

A few quick web slings and he was standing in front of his own house. Police cars surrounded the block. A blond man, built like a tank, leaned against the fence, shouting for someone to come out. He didn’t seem to care that there were fifteen cops pointing guns at him. Peter sailed over his head to land on the porch eaves. 

“Uh, can I help you, sir?”

“You!” The man shouted. “He’s here!” 

A black shape darted out of Peter’s front door and slithered to stand next to the man. 

“Spider-Man,” The black shape rasped. “We meet at last.”

“Hello,” Peter said uncertainly. “Um, who are you? Why are you breaking into the Parkers’ house?”

“I could smell you here. Could smell him here. He’s been watching you for a long time Spider-Man.”

“Creepy.” Whispered Peter. “Uh, yeah, I’m your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. My, uh, smell is probably all over these houses. Don’t know who this other person is you’re talking about.” 

The creature cocked its head to the side and studied him. “I thought you would be, more.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but if you and blondie there could surrender to the nice police officers, I’m sure this night will go a lot smoother for all of us.” 

The creature looked around and seemed to register the cops for the first time. “These humans are of no consequence.” 

“Venom, we should go, even you can’t take too many bullets.” The blond guy said, pulling on the creature’s arm. 

The white, wide grimace opened to reveal another row of fangs and Peter resisted the urge to grimace. “You are not my only option, Spider-Man. There is another who is worthy.” 

Venom hauled the blond guy into its arms and leapt over the top of Peter’s house. Before the cops could shoot at him, Peter swung after him. Once he was sure the creature was gone, he returned to his bag and then raced on foot the six blocks back to his house. 

Aunt May was on a stretcher, paramedics taking her into the back of a waiting ambulance as he pleaded with an officer to let him through. Luckily, Ned’s older brother, Hector, caught sight of him and pulled him through to May before they whisked her away. Peter promised him a million favors as the patrolman shooed the paramedics away to give them a moment. 

“Peter,” She rasped through her oxygen mask. “You have to go. I tried, I tried before. It wanted you. You need to leave. I tried to make you leave before because I knew you needed to get out of Queens. You can be so much more Peter. You need to leave here.” 

“I don’t know if I’m ready, Aunt May.” 

“No one’s ever ready kiddo. But if that thing knows you’re here, it’ll keep coming back. You’ll be safer if you leave. Go, go do some good. I know you can.” 

The paramedics shoved him away and Peter waited with Hector until it was around the corner. 

“Pete, you know anything about what happened here tonight?”

He swallowed heavily and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “No, I don’t even know what _did_ happen? Did someone break in?”

“Nah man, some _thing,_ like those alien movies you and _bunso,_ used to watch in school showed up. Neighbors say it went in and attacked May and then Spider-Man showed up. Thing said it could smell him around here and you know how May likes to leave cookies for him.” 

Peter did know. May left them out on the porch for him on nice nights. The neighbors tended to leave him things too, all of them knew that Spider-Man was there for Forest Hills, so Peter spent a lot of time on their roofs and porches. No wonder Venom came here. He tuned back into Hector’s spiel on what happened. 

“Spider-Man tried to get it to surrender, but it grabbed the big guy and they disappeared. Spidey chased after them, I hope he doesn’t try and take them on by himself. You just coming home from work?” 

“Yeah, I was running data on an experiment. Hector, can I get into the house or is it a closed crime scene?” 

“Lemme check with the Captain,” Hector turned and Peter saw Captain Stacy had arrived. He groaned a little. George Stacy was still bitter on his daughter’s behalf from her disastrous break-up with Peter. 

“Mr. Parker,” Captain Stacy grumbled. “Shoulda known it’d be your house attracting weirdos.” 

The hardened cop stared him down, reminding Peter of all the times he’d stood uncomfortably in the Stacy’s foyer as a teenager. Gwen was his girlfriend when Uncle Ben died. She’d tried to be there for Peter, but she kept pushing him to move on and he wasn’t ready. So they fought, all the time. It ended in a spectacular screaming match on the Stacy’s porch, George Stacy standing just inside the door. 

Three months later, Peter was sleeping his way through his depression and Captain Stacy happened to catch him making out with some random dude while returning some of his stuff for Gwen. Peter had the guy pressed against the wall in the cut through between his house and the Watsons next door. To say he was pissed was an understatement. Didn’t help that the guy had called George a fascist pig, to his face, while Peter tried desperately to hide. 

There’d been some strong words and indecent insinuations on both sides after that. Peter had let his mouth get the better of him, encouraged by the mouthy asshole he’d been hoping have sex with him. The whole exchange ended with mouthy asshole, Peter remembered him calling himself Thom Cruz, emphasizing the different spelling, nearly getting arrested and Aunt May coming to his rescue. Things had been frosty ever since. 

“Captain Stacy,” He began, because he needed to remind himself to be polite here. “I don’t know who that was or why they attacked Aunt May. I do know that you don’t want me in the house because it’s a crime scene. Can I grab some things to stay at a friends for a few days?” 

“Officer Leeds,” Captain Stacy didn’t break his glare at Peter. “Escort Mr. Parker here to his room and make sure he doesn’t touch anything that can be considered evidence.” 

“Yessir! _Pumarito ka_ ,” Hector ushered Peter towards his house. “The Cap still hates you, eh, _Pedring?_ ” 

Peter nodded and let Hector lead him upstairs where he set about stuffing as many clothes as he could into a duffel bag. He also slipped his entire supply of web shooters and his extra suit into the bag. If a weird alien creature was hunting him, or someone he knew, then he wanted to be prepared. Sure, he wasn’t _enough_ for the creature, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still capable of saving the people he loved, or himself. 

\----- 

Peter had to fight Hector about his living arrangements for the night. Nor did he call Ned, Harry, or Neena. He didn’t want any of them involved. He’d turned off his phone as he crossed back into Manhattan, deliberately getting off at the 96th Street station to make it look like he was headed for Harry’s apartment. 

He wandered around Central Park for a bit, now wearing his costume underneath a hoodie and jeans. A blind woman ambled over to him and sat down on the same bench. 

“You lost honey?” 

“Oh, uh, no ma’am.” 

“Most people in the park at night are a little lost. That’s why they’re here instead of at home, if they even got a home. You got a home?” 

“I do, but it’s not safe for me to be there.” 

“So you came to the park? Not a good choice, hon. You’re gonna get mugged carrying that bag around. You got anyone to call?” 

Everything in him said he needed to call his friends, his family for help. Instead, his first thought was the guy from the subway station. Peter didn’t exactly know why, but he felt like the guy could handle himself in a fight. Besides, he needed a place to stay that wasn’t with someone he cared about. 

“Not really.” 

“That’s a lie if I ever heard one. You’re thinking about someone. You say it ain’t safe for you to be at home, but you thought of someone just now and that person makes you feel safe. You should go to that person.” 

She got up and pressed a gentle hand to his cheek. “You go find that person, hon. Who knows, might change your life.” 

“Thank you, ma’am.” 

“Call me Blind Al. Everyone does.” As she sauntered into the shadows he heard her whispering to herself. She turned back towards him at the path’s fork. “You stay away from that creature, hon. It’s got powers you ain’t ready for yet. But you can be. You can be a lot more. We see it in ya!” 

Feeling a bit like he’d just encountered his very own schizophrenic fairy godmother, Peter watched after her for a bit. He considered her advice and didn’t see an alternative that didn’t involve his family getting hurt. So, he’d dropped into a McDonalds and opened up his laptop. He’d gotten bored sophomore year of college and heavily encrypted the whole thing, especially since his search history included a lot of sketchy things regarding his powers and justifiable homicide. He wasn’t concerned about anyone finding him with it. A quick search for Venom revealed nothing, nor did any sightings of black and white creatures with fangs come up. Whatever this thing was, it was new to the city. 

Satisfied on that front he’d munched on some French fries and googled Sister Margaret’s. Nothing came up except an archived newspaper article from the Times about a defunct girls’ home where the nuns had been torturing their charges. He scrolled through a few other links until he found something promising. 

The link took him to a Sister Margaret’s survivor page and when Peter clicked the location link he was redirected to a site advertising an address in Washington Heights. The cabbie who dropped him off outside the alley on West 156th Street looked about ready to call the cops on his behalf and Peter saw the guy cross himself before driving away. 

Washington Heights wasn’t exactly the best place to stand with a huge duffel bag and a satchel at midnight, but Peter didn’t really have a choice at this point. He’d chosen a course, and he was gonna stick to it. A guy wearing a trench coat, in August, and a, no shit, Dick Tracy hat passed Peter and disappeared into the alley. Peter followed him and saw him disappear through a badly lit door. 

A plaque on the wall read Sister Margaret’s Home for Wayward Children, but someone had painted the word Hellhouse over it. The heavy steel door swung open and a massive, bearded man wearing biker leathers nearly knocked Peter over. The guy gruffed out a muttered apology and held the door open long enough for Peter to slink through. 


	3. In Which Peter Enters Sister Margaret’s and Accepts a Contract To Spy on a Dangerous Dude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is, like, 90% dialogue. I really didn't see the point for a lot of description heavy paragraphs. If you don't know the visuals by now, well, stop reading this and go read a comic book or watch the Deadpool movies. 
> 
> Imma go back to watching the World Cup now. Expect chapter 4 by Sunday or Monday evening.

Peter found himself inside a bar. Several of the patrons were eyeing him carefully, many of them putting hands on weapons. Most everyone else simply ignored him. Peter stood stock still, trying not to gape at the cross-section of humanity. Every one of these people set his Spidey-Senses tingling and he had no idea what to do. They all screamed danger, especially the ones not overtly showing him they were armed. 

“Hey, white bread, what are you having?”

Peter turned to find a shaggy-haired guy behind the bar wiping his hands off on a towel. “Uh, I’m looking for someone.”

“Vague,” The guy teased. “Most people who come in here are looking for someone. Usually for a job.” 

“Job?” 

“What happened, your wife catch you cheating and kicked you out?” The guy gestured to Peter’s bag. 

“Oh! Oh, no,” Peter stammered. “No. I met this guy tonight…” 

“Gonna stop you there, man. This ain’t a brothel, everyone who leaves here together are consenting adults.”

“I’m not here for a prostitute.” Peter interrupted. 

“Okay,” The bartender said disbelievingly as he poured three fingers of Macallan into a glass. “So, this guy then, told you to come here?”

“Yeah, he said Weasel would know where to find him.”

“You really should have started with that.” The whisky slid down the bar and a scary looking guy with receding auburn hair and a three-piece suit passed a gold card over to Weasel. 

“I detest this country.” A crisp English accent came out of the guy’s mouth. “Inform the client that his traitor is no longer hiding under Her Majesty’s skirts.” 

“Will do. Inform your brother he still owes me a favor.” Weasel turned back to Peter. “So, this guy give you a name?”

“Wade Wilson.” 

Weasel frowned at Peter and gave him a blatant once-over. “You’re the hot piece of ass he was talking about? Not his usual type.” 

Peter knew he was blushing beet red. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Wade typically goes for, well, I don’t have a better word, sluts. You seem like the buttoned up nine-to-five type,” Weasel suddenly groaned. “He didn’t meet you on Tinder did he? I told him to quit doing that.” 

“No, he bumped into me, literally, in Queens. Tonight. I, uh, decided to take him up on his offer?” 

“You did? Really? You got a look at my boy Wade and were still DTF? I’m impressed, white bread, you might actually be a good guy. But, uh, that doesn’t explain the duffel bag.”

“Would you believe me if I told you an alien attacked my house about five minutes after I met Wade and I’m pretty sure it wants to kill me?” 

“As it happens, I would.” 

Peter leaned over the bar and beckoned Weasel forward so he could whisper to him. “Would you also believe me if I told you I’m Spider-Man and that I’m pretty sure Wade’s just enough of a dangerous person to help me out?”

He pulled down the collar of his shirt to expose the suit underneath. Weasel’s eyes darted back and forth between the exposed fabric and Peter’s face. Suddenly, he pulled back and shouted, “Dopinder!”

A skinny Indian man appeared almost instantly. “I am here to help.”

“You are here to watch the bar for ten minutes while I talk to this guy,” Weasel gestured at Peter. Dopinder looked very serious, and also a little manic. “In the back. You will not make anything more complicated than a rum and coke. You will not leave the bar unattended for any reason. Do you understand?”

“I understand, Mr. Weasel, sir.” 

“Don’t fuck this up, Dopinder. It’s your one shot.” He pointed at Peter, “You, come with me.”

Peter hefted his bag higher up on his shoulder and followed Weasel into a back room. Weasel gestured at an empty chair and Peter sank into it, his bags on the floor at his feet. 

“I have a proposition for you.” 

“One between consenting adults?” 

“Well played, and, well, kind of. I want you to work for me.”

“As what, a bar back, bouncer? No offense, but I don’t think I’m gonna inspire fear in any of your normal clientele with or without the suit. And I’ve never worked customer service in my life.” 

“I don’t need help keeping those assholes in line. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve. No, I want you to spy on Wade.” 

“Why?”

“He’s a mutant. Joined up with the X-Men a few months back. It did not go…well.” 

“Define not well.” 

“He shot some orderlies at one of those rehab homes for mutant kids. And a cop. He shot a cop.” 

Peter gaped. “Really? Wait, I saw that on TV. Wade is Deadpool? Really? That guy? Huh.”

“Yeah, really. The X-Men kicked him out and his bestie-slash-fuck buddy Colossus isn’t speaking to him anymore. Wade’s a bit depressed and when he gets depressed he tends to cause more trouble than usual. Last time he did that he nearly killed the Fantastic Four.” 

“Why?” 

“Apparently Ben Grimm called him ugly.” 

“Oh.” Peter really didn’t know what to say to that. “Wade isn’t exactly stable is he?”

“Not by a long one-shot, but he’s a great guy despite that and my friend.” 

“But why do you want me to spy on him?”

“He says, and I’m quoting him here, that you ‘turned off the dark in his brain,’ and ‘he strangely wants to be you, but also kill you.’” 

“How, how is that a good thing?”

“He’s got a massive freaking crush on Spider-Man. If he finds out that his superhero crush and the, again I’m quoting here, ‘hot piece of ass from Queens’ are the same person, he’s going to bust a nut.” 

“Again, how is this a good thing? And what does this have to do with spying on him?”

“You’re a distraction from the fact that an alien is hunting him.” 

“That wouldn’t be,” Peter frowned at Weasel. “That wouldn’t be an alien named Venom who travels around with a guy that looks like Tom Hardy would it.” 

Weasel’s silence was enough of an answer. 

“You realize this alien is after both of us, right? It came after me tonight and basically told me it wanted me, I assume for eating. I don’t want to get eaten. How does spying on Wade help me?” 

“You may have noticed some shady looking people in the bar.”

“That’s an understatement.” 

“You’re not wrong. Sister Margaret’s is a business. We hire independent contractors to take care of sensitive jobs,” Weasel said, winking. 

Peter frowned, “Those people are assassins? Deadpool is an assassin?”

“Yep!” Weasel popped the last consonant like a wad of double bubble. “And do you know what that means?”

“Not really, no.” 

“It means, my fine arachnid friend, that if you stay here, you have a bar full of assassins between you and this Venom thing. I’m also completely unashamed to aim low and appeal to you as a decent human being. Wade is on the verge of a downward spiral that no amount of booze and meaningless sex has alleviated. You spent, like, five minutes with him and were willing to come here hoping he was, and I’m quoting you now, ‘enough of a dangerous person to help you out.’ The two of you together against tall, dark, and fanged and I don’t think ET will stand a chance. Whaddya say, Spidey, do we have a deal?”

Peter thought it over carefully. Assassins were a new addition to his life. He also, apparently, was attracted to people who could, most definitely, kill him. People who were also a bit deranged. As soon as that thought flitted through his mind, he thought of his dating history and realized that this particular attraction had been around for a while. 

Then again, dangerous people could teach him a thing or two about being a hero. Look at Black Widow, she was a former Russian/ Hydra assassin. So was her boyfriend with the metal arm. If they could use their talents for good, then it stood to reason Peter could learn some things from similar people. 

The image of Wade on television shooting a cop stopped his train of thought. That guy needed help. Peter could help him. 

“So, uh, I can’t exactly run around telling everyone I’m Spider-Man, or Peter Parker.”

“Aww yeah! Great. I really thought you’d be too good of a person to agree. Cool. I’ve still got it.”

“Weasel.”

“Sorry. Okay, so I’m gonna tell everybody you’re my new contractor.”

“I don’t know how to build things.” 

“Not that kind of contractor. I want you to take jobs.”

“I’m also not going to kill people.”

“No need. A lot of our contracts are intimidation only type deals. We’ll have to get you a different costume. Don’t want to tarnish that boy scout image you got going for yourself.” 

“Here,” Peter dug through his bag, “I have an extra suit and enough fabric left to make significant changes.” 

“You really are a boy scout, prepared for everything. Alright, what we need now is a new name. Well two new names.” 

“Ben, Ben Reilly.” 

“That was quick.”

“Okay,” Peter sidestepped that one. He didn’t want to discuss why he already had a new name picked out. “I need a new Spider name.” 

They stared at each other, thinking through names and discarding them quickly. Finally, Weasel piped up with an ecstatic look on his face. 

“Anti-Venom.”

“A little on the nose, don’t ya think?”

“Valid point.” 

“What about Spider-Boy?”

Weasel didn’t dignify that with a response instead firing off a quick, “Ai Apaec.”

“What even is that?”

“You know, I don’t know, it just came to me.”

“Whatever, Man-Spider.” Peter tried. 

“No way. The Web-Slinger.”

“Sounds like a porn name.”

“Shit, it does. Although,” He stopped talking at the look on Peter’s face. “Okay fine what about Blood Spider.”

“Yeah, no. Web Man.”

“Lame. Spidercide.” 

“That sounds like an actual insecticide.”

“But, it’s all murdery.” Weasel pleaded. 

“I said no murder.”

“You are no fun.”

“Not the first time someone’s said that to me.”

They lapsed into silence, still thinking of new monikers. Peter opened his mouth a few times with names on the tip of his tongue, but quickly decided against them all. Weasel tapped his fingers to the tune of Bohemian Rhapsody and they listened to the thumping and shouting outside. Finally, Weasel’s face lit up. 

“I’ve got it. Steel Spider.” 

Peter nodded, it was a good one, but it gave him a better idea. “What about Scarlet Spider?” 

“Oh, that, that’s better. Definitely. Scarlet Spider, implies all sorts of morally gray leanings and makes you different than your normal boy scout-y self.”

He stood up and leaned over his desk to shake Peter’s hands. “Welcome to Sister Margaret’s Ben, you’re gonna be fine.”

“Doesn’t feel that way.”

“Yeah, well, the best way to fix a problem is to—”

He didn’t get to finish. Dopinder burst through the door, a cut bleeding above his left eye. 

“Mr. Weasel! Mr. Weasel! That homeless man is back. He threw a beer bottle at me!”

Weasel pushed past them, calling for Peter over his shoulder. He glanced at Dopinder, who shrugged, and they both jogged back into the bar. 

A big guy, dressed in a tattered jacket and what looked like an actual cape, had one of the bar’s patrons pinned to the floor. Most everyone else had a weapon pointed at him. Weasel, now armed with a shotgun and a frown, stood over the two men. 

“You mind letting my customer go?”

“He insulted me.”

“You’re dressed like Mad Max cosplaying as Obi-Wan Kenobi and you’re upset someone insulted you?”

The man’s head whipped up and he dropped his victim. “You’re insulting me now too?”

“Stating facts my friend. You’re hopelessly outgunned here. So, why don’t you leave before one of these lovely people remembers they have an itchy trigger finger and removes your head from your body.”  
Peter felt the moment the guy decided to fight anyway. Yeah, he was big and he looked like he probably knew how to handle himself in a fight, but Peter didn’t think he stood a chance against a bar full of armed assassins. Every hair on his arms stood up and he vaulted up and over a guy he could only mentally describe as Fat Gandalf and pinned the homeless guy face first to the floor. 

“You definitely wanna leave, like right now, man.”

The bar went deathly quiet as the guy reared back and dislodged Peter from his back. Only his reflexes and heightened speed stopped Peter from plowing into Fat Gandalf. He managed a back handspring, mentally thanking Neena for insisting he go with her to her gymnastics lessons as a kid, and landed on his feet in time to dodge a knife the guy threw at his head. 

“That wasn’t very nice.”

“Neither was pinning me to the floor asshole.”

“Oh, so you’re allowed to do it, but I’m not?”

They stared each other down for a long second. Again, Peter’s Spidey-Senses tingled and he slid forward to knock the guy’s legs out from under him and flip him, just as he reached for a gun on his hip. Peter snatched it away and tossed it to Weasel and then barreled into the guy, pushing him towards the door. They fell into the alley and Peter distinctly heard Weasel behind him shouting, “I have faith in you, Ben!” 

The door slammed shut and Peter heard an ominous metal clang. He was definitely locked out here with this guy now. Said guy was crouched against the far wall, shaking his head and muttering to himself. Peter edged towards him, carefully. 

“Hey, you alright over there?” He didn’t get a response, so he inched a bit closer. “Um, what’s your name?”

That earned him a quick snap of the guy’s head and more muttering before he shouted, “No!” 

“So, uh, you don’t want to tell me your name, that’s fine. I’ll tell you mine. I’m Ben.”

“Not your name. You’re Peter.” The guy mumbled. “Came here lookin’ for ya. Your family is worried. Vanessa sent me to find you.”

“What? How do you know Vanessa?”

No response again, dude was back to muttering. Peter scrubbed his hands over his face. “Look, I’m fine. You can go back to Vanessa and tell her I’m okay.”

That seemed to be the right thing to say. The guy got up and strode down the alley like he was off to war. Peter followed him for a few blocks before he lost him and sat on a rooftop for a long minute wondering about his life choices. 

Eventually he made his way back to Sister Margaret’s where Weasel was kicking the last people out. Peter watched them go, ensuring that they weren’t able to see him before dropping down and slipping in through the closing door. 

“Ah!” Screamed Dopinder when he saw Peter appear in the darkened doorway. 

“Didn’t mean to scare you, uh, sorry. I don’t remember your name.”

“Dopinder.”

“Well, sorry, Dopinder.”

“No problem. Weasel says you are our new contractor. This is not fair. I want to be an assassin. I am a dangerous man.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yes. Mr. Pool says I have heart of a killer.”

“Have you killed anyone?” Peter asked seriously. He didn’t really think this guy was serious. Or, well, he hoped he wasn’t. 

“My cousin. It was an accident. But I did kidnap him and put him in my trunk. The accident was not my fault, but he died anyway. My Gita has not yet forgiven me. She will, though, he was a terrible man.”

Peter gaped at Dopinder and was only saved from saying something potentially stupid by the appearance of Wade. Clad in a red and black suit that looked suspiciously like one of the early iterations of Peter’s suit, Wade stumbled in and leaned heavily against the bar. 

“Dopinder, my friend, I need a towel and a shot of vodka. Not necessarily in that order.” 

“What the fuck happened to you now?” Weasel called from across the room.


End file.
